


from here up to forever

by donutcats



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Gen Work, POV Alternating, Platonic Relationships, Slice of Life, boys being bestfriends, its tubbo pov centric but the others get their turn, there's a vague plot but its mostly snapshot moments, they're allowed to be kids for a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28654401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutcats/pseuds/donutcats
Summary: Everyone yells about breaking the cycle. They want something to change. Claiming nothing good can happen if nothing changes. Well, here they are, two kids at the bottom of a hole that was once the only home they knew, taking each other's hands and deciding to walk away. They decide to break the cycle.
Relationships: Ranboo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Ranboo, Tommyinnit & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 9
Kudos: 121





	from here up to forever

**Author's Note:**

> so, I wrote some genfic for the best three boys on the dsmp server. did I write the boys softer than they are? maybe! they deserve to be soft. I did listen to YCGMA and the life is strange soundtrack while writing this, and I feel like it shows.  
> most of this au was written before january 9/10, diverging from canon during the third time L'manburg was blown up. 
> 
> title is from the L'manburg anthem. it's meant to specifically come from the improvised lyrics from when they sang it on Doomsday. 'And from everywhere from here up to forever.' 
> 
> if any of the ccs involved express that they're uncomfortable about any type of fanfic written about them, I will of course respect that and take this down. as far as I'm aware, I think all of the ccs involved are ok with gen fic? please correct me if I'm wrong. other than that, all I ask is that if by some twist of fate, if this is ever somehow referenced to the ccs themselves, just give credit where credit is due. ✌

Everyone yells about breaking the cycle. They want something to change. Claiming nothing good can happen if nothing _changes._ Well, here they are, two kids at the bottom of a hole that was once the only home they knew, taking each other's hands and deciding to walk away. They decide to break the cycle.

There’s tnt raining from the sky, literally raining, and the shadows of Withers still loom in the distance. Tubbo looks up, can feel the reverberations of every explosion, can feel the crackling of the fireworks used as weapons. He looks up and his ears ring, and the night sky hangs unchanging.

Tommy’s next to him, and there’s a part of himself that thrills at that. There was a time where he didn’t know if he’d ever see Tommy again, a shorter period where he thought his best friend was _dead_ and- having him here, it feels unreal. His whole body feels so tired, feels so defeated, but there’s a fire burning inside of Tommy and it’s always been contagious. But he wonders if it’s enough. 

He’s standing, screaming at Techno, barbs and pleas mixing together. He was never all that good with his words, but Tubbo can’t judge, neither of them ever really were. He can tell the things Tommy wants to say, but it gets all jumbled and sounds more accusatory than it should. There’s no winning here. There’s nothing here. 

The ground shakes, chunks away, and he puts a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. There’s a lull in the tnt, but he can vaguely make out Dream, at the very top, no end to this in sight. "There's nothing left, Tommy.” Tommy snaps his focus to fix on Tubbo, hands balled into tight fists at his side. “It doesn't matter... it doesn't matter anymore, just. Stop." 

Normally Tommy wouldn't, he'd keep going no matter who tells him to stop, but there must be something about Tubbo’s voice. The way it doesn’t waver, the sigh buried beneath the words. Techno keeps yelling, keeps shooting off fireworks, but Tommy stands silent. Looking at Tubbo. Wide eyes meet hooded ones. The fire flickers, but it doesn’t go out.

They back away, hands clasped tightly together, and crawl out of the crater as things continue to explode. 

"Let's just go, Tommy..." 

"But my discs-” His voice cracks, and he helps Tubbo up a steeper incline, chipped away by explosives. 

"The discs will be there. They'll still be there, but we have to, I dunno, regroup first."

Tommy nods, mashes his lips together in uncertainty but still nods, and that’s a victory if Tubbo has ever seen one. He just wants to leave, he wants to go somewhere far away, where they can both finally _breathe._

They head off towards Tommy’s old house, planning to gather whatever the hell they can while everyone is still so very busy. Tubbo has to blink a few times, has to take a quick moment because- it was so goddamn _loud,_ everything now feels too quiet. The explosions and the yelling feel muffled, the farther they walk from the hole previously known as L’manburg. 

One of the epaulets of his suit jacket is torn off, and that leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He’s reminded of Tommy yelling about the van, about his last memories of Wilbur being taken from him. He wonders if this is their fate, to be left with nothing to show that Wilbur impacted their lives in meaningful ways.

Tommy is vibrating, the energy from his argument with Techno still humming through him. He wanted more, Tubbo knows, but he also knows nothing good would have come from it. Tubbo tries his best to listen, but something catches his eye. 

Ranboo stands off to the side, clearly shaking, his book held tight in his hands, and something in Tubbo tugs at the sight. He meets Ranboo’s eyes, and he can feel the uncertainty, the panic. He’s felt it too and it fucking sucks. 

“Tubbo?” Tommy questions. 

“Hold on a second.” He moves towards Ranboo, and he can already see the panic build onto itself, the way Ranboo tenses like he’s ready for… something unpleasant. Tubbo silently offers his hand, palm down, fingers reaching.

Flowers brush against their legs as they walk, and Tubbo comes to a very pointed decision. One he already knew, but now it’s cemented itself. Ranboo matters. Because even when everything felt bleak, Ranboo was there trying to help. He was the definition of loyalty. 

"But, I thought- Tubbo, I betrayed you."

"You're not the first." Tubbo says, still holding his hand, following as Tommy stomps ahead of them. He's mumbling to himself, cursing, sometimes he'll whirl around and say something about Techno or Dream or how it all went shit up, and then he'll whip back around and keep walking.

Tubbo lets him. That's how they've always been. He lets Tommy be loud when Tommy needs to be loud, and Tommy lets Tubbo be quiet when he needs to be quiet. Never expecting anything else from the other. "and, I dunno if you'll even be the last, if I'm terribly honest."

"That’s not a very positive outlook. I- what about my book, I wrote down all of the things-"

"You shouldn't be condemned for having a diary, Ranboo. For caring about people. We've all done things we regret."

"I don't want to choose sides....." He wiggles his fingers in Tubbo’s grip, but he doesn’t let go. That’s the important part, Tubbo reminds himself. He doesn’t let go.

"This isn't a side. We're choosing you, Ranboo the person. You're hopefully choosing us. We're choosing _people._ That’s what you wanted, yeah? People choosing people."

"It feels like a side. We’re not choosing everyone. We're abandoning the people back there, to start something separate."

"Ranboo." And here Tubbo stops, turns so they're facing each other. "There's one thing you don't seem to really understand, and that's ok! It's ok to not know things and then learn them later, I do it all the time. But... choosing people doesn't mean choosing everyone. Choosing people who you _care_ about isn’t taking sides. We choose the people that matter to us, because they're the people who stick by our side! We choose the people who will be there no matter what. Those other people? They don't matter. They... they showed us what's important and it wasn't _us._ "

“It wasn’t your side.”

“No, it wasn’t the things we cared for. Whether that be material things, or even just each other. They didn’t care about us, because to them, destroying everything was more important.” 

"The only side that matters is friendship."

"Kinda cringe, Tommy." Tubbo volley’s back, not even looking at Tommy as he says it.

"Hey, shut the fuck up! I get to say cool things too!"

Tubbo just smiles at Ranboo, because no matter what else happens, at least he has them.   
  
  


They walk for a while, for a good chunk of the day. At one point Tommy cuts down half of a tree to make them boats and slaps two in the water. He's still angry, it’s rolling off of him in waves, but he keeps it bundled so close. It’s nothing like the explosive anger Tubbo is used to. 

He’s reminded of the things Tommy and Ranboo have both said, about the time he was exiled. Wonders how the Tommy now is different from the Tommy he’s always known. 

At some point normal conversation starts up. Nothing to really do about L’manburg, or the war or the scathing things people said. Ranboo is still paranoid. Tommy is still angry, and Tubbo is still tired. He's so tired. But they make it work. They try to think of anything else. 

Ranboo jokes about Tubbo's steering, which makes them all pile onto the joke, turning it into a bigger thing about ratings and the boat piloting business as a whole. It’s something they did what feels like ages ago, during yet another stressful situation. But this time, it doesn’t feel like there’s an anvil hanging over anyone’s head. 

“I gave you _food_ when we left, Ranboo! I should get more than three stars for that.” 

“Ok, ok. Three and a half for the baked potatoes you _tossed_ my way.”

“Thank you!”  
  
Tommy steers himself in a circle around them, laughing that he’s going to give himself 5 stars at the end of this ride. It’s good to hear Tommy laugh, even if it’s edged in something else. It's good to hear Tommy point blank, really. Tubbo will take whatever he can get. That doesn’t stop him from taking an oar and splashing Tommy. 

\---

They set up at the edge of an ocean. Maybe not forever, but for now. Just for now. 

Tommy sits on the beach, knees pulled so closely to his chin. 

“Should I set up a tent?” Tubbo had asked earlier, and he saw the way Ranboo flinched, the way Tommy's shoulders went tight. 

“No, no tents. Dirt hut will work just fine, really.” 

Tubbo joins him on the beach, his suit jacket placed on the ground next to him. He stretches his legs out, digs the toes of his shoes into the sand. The sun is setting, pulling below the horizon and setting the ocean ablaze. He tips sideways, resting his head on Tommy's shoulder. Feels the hitch of Tommy’s breath, before Tommy relaxes, his sigh stuttering out of him. 

“Tell me about it?”

“About what?”

“About all the things I missed while you were gone. The things I caused.”

“Tubbo, no, it wasn’t your fault-”

“No no, it was a little bit my fault. More than a little, really. I have to own up to that. I should have... at least visited.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything to that, and that’s how Tubbo knows what really hurts Tommy. He can soldier his way through whatever happened to him, apologize for the things that weren’t his fault just so it’ll be done with, but the fact that Tubbo didn’t visit? That cuts them both so very deep. 

“I was afraid, you know. Not of Dream- not like that. He never really scared me actually, and maybe that’s ‘cause he was playing me all along and made me not be afraid but- well, that’s a whole _different_ thing. But, I didn’t visit because I was afraid of you.”

“Of me?” Tommy's voice cracks.

“I was so afraid to face you after what I did. The idea of you being mad at me, I just couldn’t take it.”

“I- I wasn’t… Tubbo, I wasn’t-”

“You were, and it’s ok. I was mad too. But, staying away made things worse. Convincing myself I did the right thing, that I should let you be alone and angry... it was a mistake, and I’m sorry.” 

“I’m sorry too.” 

Tubbo hums in response. He thought they got their apologies out of the way before everything, sitting there on their bench. Maybe it’s better now. Without doomsday hanging over their heads, rushing their words along. Maybe they needed this, right here. A quiet moment with no blood waiting on the other side. 

“For…. for not listening to you. For once, all I had to do was listen to you, and I couldn’t do that. I’m sorry for being mad at you, too.”

“You shouldn’t apologize for being _mad.”_

“Yeah…”

“But we’re not anymore, right? We’re not mad at each other because… we both fucked up, but we’re sorry. We’re going to do better.”

“Yeah…” Tommy breathes again, shifting to lay his head on top of Tubbo’s. 

“I don’t want to interrupt, but…” Ranboo shuffles his way to the beach, once the sun is gone and the sky is fading from purple to deep blue. 

Tubbo reaches a hand behind him, towards Ranboo’s voice, fingers making a grabby sort of motion. 

“Uh…”

“C’mon Ranboo.” Tubbo tries not to whine, really he does. But he fails spectacularly. He leans away from Tommy, trying to snatch at Ranboo’s hand, and he can feel the way Tommy seems to follow him as he sways backwards. 

“It’s ok, it’s ok. I just wanted to say I set the chests up.”

“Ranbo, if you don’t join us, I’m going to be forced to bodily tackle you, and proceed to make you eat sand.” Tommy says, monotone, staring out into the sea.  
  
 _“Uh…”_

“I’d do what he says, Ranboo.” 

“I thought you were meant to stop Tommy from doing stupid things?”

“Eh, not always. Not when it’s fun.” 

Ranboo sighs, a great heave of a thing, and then Tubbo feels their hands slot together. Ranboo lets himself be pulled down, joining their pile, legs nudge into legs and Tommy complains about a stray elbow, blaming Ranboo when it was clearly Tubbo’s doing. It’s a mess of a thing, but he can see the way Ranboo is smiling, the way Tommy’s laugh huffs out of him. 

Finally they settle into something that’s comfortable enough. Sand in every fold of their clothing, and Tubbo bookended by two people much taller than he will ever be. It’s the happiest he’s been in awhile.

They find a sheep with a blue coat the next day, farther from the ocean, and Tommy decides that’s where they need to set down their base. Like it’s some sort of sign. Tubbo starts building, something simple to start off with, nothing too grand. Ranboo and Tubbo both have to stop in the midst of collecting resources to watch as Tommy argues whole heartedly with a sheep that has the best thousand yard stare they’ve ever seen. 

Hey, it’s free entertainment.

“You really are a sheep with too many fuckin’ lives, huh? You son of a bitch, stop trying to eat my shirt! Oh, I swear if you weren’t symbolic I would have axed you by now.” 

Tubbo let’s him be, and goes back to the complicated business of roofing. 

The sun sets, it rises. The house gets built up, chests get placed. It’s on the third day, when Ranboo and Tommy are coming back from their rescue mission to gather up all of Ranboo’s myriad of animals, that Tubbo notices a shape trailing behind them. Keeping to the treeline. 

He wonders how neither of them noticed the yellow jumper in their journey back. 

“Hey, Ghostbur!” 

“Ghostbur?” Tommy whips around, and Ranboo sidesteps a wayward elbow. 

“Hi guys… I was following you!”

“Why didn’t you say anything!?”

“I didn’t want to intrude!”

Tommy makes a squawking sort of sound, like a disgruntled bird. Ranboo ushers his pets into the house as Tubbo holds the door open for each of them. Tommy makes yet another noise, and there’s something about the slope of his shoulders that shows how very pleased he is, but they both know he’d never say it out loud.

“Should we tell Ghostbur about his sheep?” Ranboo asks, and Tubbo just now notices a little black and white bunny nestled comfortably in his arms.

“I’m sure they’ll get to it.” Tubbo gently moves Ranboo’s dog farther into the house with a nudge of his leg, making sure no gets locked outside. “Are you ever gonna name him?”

“I don’t know yet!”

“And the bunny?”

“I found him, and he looked like me… I had to pick him up, Tubbo.”

“Oh, of course.” He reaches out a tentative hand, trying to say hello and letting the bunny eye him warily. 

Ghostbur crowds into Tommy’s space, a wavering little smile plastered on, and he’s touching at Tommy’s shoulder, at his elbow, a poke to his chest. He can hear Tommy ask what the hell he’s doing, the way his voice goes soft at the end. 

“Making sure you’re ok. I saw- I saw L’manburg. I saw it and- I was so _worried,_ Tommy. I didn’t know where you went! But then I saw you, but you were talking to your friend and I didn’t want to ruin anything so I just followed… I just followed. Because, well, you looked safe! But I wanted to make sure. I just needed to be sure, Tommy.” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m- I’m fine. Hey, hey Wil- _Ghostbur._ I wanna show you something. Something I think you’ll really like.” 

Tubbo let’s them have this moment. He closes the door and sets about making a place for the new residents of their little house. Enderchest has already climbed onto their furnaces, enjoying the residual warmth. 

\---

The thing is, Tommy tries to settle in. Put down roots, and just breathe. He buries the helmet Techno gave him at the bottom of a chest, and really tries to embrace this weirdly mellow life they’ve carved out for themselves. 

They agree they need the discs back. They talk about it, just the two of them, and Tubbo tries to explain how on the list of priorities, the discs aren’t at the top anymore. It hurts a little to hear, but the more they talk, the more it makes sense. 

The discs matter, _they do,_ but they can wait. Dream is out there, yes. He has the discs and he’s not done with Tommy just yet, but. What can they do about it, right now? What do they even have, to do anything about it? The discs matter, but there’s more immediate things to worry about. 

They can’t go after him with nothing to their names except the things in their pockets when they left. They need to take a page from Techno’s book. They need to stock up. Start making things, collecting things that will help. Create lists and actually _plan._ Where’d Dream run off to? Why is he hiding? Who can they recruit to help? 

Tubbo expands the house when they need more room, and Ranboo is eager to help. Tommy tries, but after the third time he wants to incorporate cobble where it _apparently_ doesn’t belong, Tubbo regulates him to grinding for materials they need. Which, ok, fine, he’ll do. He can do that. Is he happy about it? Well, that's besides the point. 

He still refuses to go to the nether alone, and he doesn’t really want to dwell on the reasons for that hang up. So instead he drags Ranboo along, as they pick their way over oceans of lava and precariously placed bridges. Tubbo joins too, and that’s always fun. The three of them climbing around the nether, helping Ranboo out when he wants to mine for netherite. 

They bicker over the organizational system, neither Tommy or Ranboo having any system to speak of, and Tubbo trying to keep things in some semblance of order. They push their beds together while Tubbo is redoing the bedrooms, stealing each other's pillows. 

Well, Tommy steals the pillows while Tubbo tries to wrestle them back. Ranboo quietly takes Tubbo’s last pillow and let’s the two of them duke it out for themselves. 

“You know Ranboo doesn’t like when we fight.” Tubbo says, even as he tries to smother Tommy with one of their blankets. 

“It’s a matter of honor!”  
  
“What honor? You’re the one stealing!” 

“You’ve never minded before!”

“Actually, I have, I just never said anything.”

“Well why’d you start?” 

“I just want to sleep.” Ranboo supplies, as Tommy disentangles himself from the blankets and huffs, snatching a pillow at random and holding it close. Tubbo always tends to win their fights, and Tommy kind of hates it. 

All three of them find copious amounts of blue in every container they open. They sigh and move it to the side. 

They settle into normalcy. Tommy tries, and succeeds. 

\---

The clump of blue stains his fingers, just barely, leaving one hand to look like the powder blue sky of early afternoon. It’s meant to suck up all of his sadness, it starts transparent and slowly becomes blue as you funnel your woes and heartache into it. Then you’re meant to toss it away, and all of your sadness goes with it.

It’s not lost on Ranboo how Ghostbur is constantly handing over blue that’s never once been clear. How Ghostbur holds onto his blue so tightly and doesn’t throw it away. 

He holds it in his hands and tries to put all of his sadness into this one small bit. Everything about the festival, about the war afterwards. The feelings that came when he realized he lost his most important book and the mounting horror that crept up his spine and into the back of his mouth when he opened the pages and only found a single smiley face. 

His fingers become bluer. 

The blue gets thrown off the side of their little dock, floats unceremoniously to the surface. It should have felt bigger than that, like he was letting something _go._ He watches it bob along, slowly melting into the ocean water, and the constant litany of ‘you messed up’ continues to loop in his head regardless. 

The sun is beginning to rise, he can see it out of the corner of his eye. Peaking over the horizon, chasing away the indigo of the previous night. He may have to ask Ghostbur for some more blue. 

Who are his friends. Who are his friends? He pulls his book over, careful to keep it from going over into the water, flips through it’s pages. 

_Tubbo  
_ _Tommy  
_ _Ghostbur  
_ _Fundy_ _  
__Niki  
_ _Phil  
_ _Techno_

Friend is written in at the end of the list, in Ghostbur’s handwriting, a little smiley added at the end.

Having Phil and Techno there feels like another betrayal. They hollowed out the only place most of them called home. But they were kind to you, they showed you kindness when they didn’t need to. But is it a betrayal? To Tubbo, to Tommy? Is he just destined to betray the people he cares about because he can’t stop himself from repaying kindness? Are they even your friends because they were nice to you, or were they simply just nice and that’s where it ends? 

There’s a buzzing behind his eyes, the thoughts overlapping and building on themselves. There’s a faint blue smudge on the paper that he tries to focus on, tries to ground himself with. The feeling of the wood of the dock he’s sitting on. The slide of his palms rubbing together. The crinkle of the paper of his book. 

The dock creaks, one of the lanterns overhead sways in the morning breeze, and Tubbo comes and sits next to him. “Hey, you doing alright?”

Ranboo makes a little noise and closes his book, not sure how to answer that. Tubbo makes a little noise back, bumping their shoulders. “No. No? Maybe? I might be. I don’t know.”

“Just sort of going through it, huh.” 

“Definitely.” He rubs his blue fingertips against his pants, but it refuses to fade. It makes sense now, why Ghostbur’s hands always seem to have a tint to them. 

Ranboo shifts, his legs folded so he can sit at the edge of the dock without dangling his feet over into the water. His shoes would for sure get wet if he tried. Tubbo seems to have no worries, swinging his legs over, soles barely scraping the surface. 

He breathes. In, and out, measured and practiced. He focuses again on the things around him, the texture of his clothing, the bite in the air as he breathes. The fact that Tubbo hasn’t been wearing his jacket or tie recently. The jacket is hung up somewhere in the house, last he remembered. The tie stuffed into some barrel. 

Tubbo looks more himself without them. Shirt sleeves rolled up, partially untucked. He looks, lighter than Ranboo has ever seen him. It just makes Ranboo feel even worse about everything.

“I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For- for everything, Tubbo. For going behind your back and for not being the definition of law 5.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, I forgave you ages ago.” 

“But-”

“Listen, you have memory issues, it’s ok. Maybe, you just forgot what you should and shouldn’t be telling people. I’m sure it happens to everyone.” 

“Tubbo that’s not-” He makes another noise, filled with frustration at not being understood. “I knew I was betraying your trust even as I did it, it wasn’t a _memory_ thing. I just. I wanted to help everyone. I wanted to help _everyone.”_ He repeats it to himself, reminds himself why he did it. “I wanted to help Tommy because Tommy’s been through _so much_ and he had nothing, and I helped Techno because he was- he was nice to me. He's been nice to me. I wanted to help people that were nice to me.” 

Tubbo hums, his mouth slanting at the corner as he squints into the distance. “You also helped me out, _a lot._ What’s done is done, Ranboo. If I can forgive Tommy and he can forgive me after… after everything we’ve done to each other, I can definitely forgive you a thousand times over. No, a _million.”_

That makes Ranboo smile. The way Tubbo laughs as he says it, tips back to rest on his elbows. “That’s a lot of forgiveness.” 

“And you deserve it! You were doing your best, and I think you did a pretty good job. You helped Tommy when I couldn’t, and the whole Technoblade thing is whatever. You shouldn’t be, like, punished for wanting to repay nice gestures, you know?” 

“I guess so.” 

“You know so!” He reaches over and shakes Ranboo by the shoulder, still smiling. “It’s all forgiven, man. Ok? So just, stop thinking we hate you.” 

“Ok, _ok.”_ He agrees a little reluctantly, and Tubbo continues to shake him until he’s laughing. “Alright! I said ok.”

“But you didn’t mean it.” 

“I mean it! You’re going to make me nauseous, quit it.” 

They lapse into silence, Tubbo moving to lay fully back, hands folded on his middle, and Ranboo stares at the patch of water much bluer than the rest. The sky bleeds golds and pinks and oranges as the sun continues to rise, as clouds gather along the horizon. One of the many boats Tommy has left along the shore drifts closer, and Ranboo stretches out a leg, carefully knocking it with his foot, sending it back to the shoreline. 

He can hear the rest of the house waking up in the distance. Mostly someone opening a window (Ghostbur) and pots banging around in the kitchen (Tommy). 

“I know you don’t want to be part of this, Ranboo.” Tubbo speaks up, breaking the quiet little bubble that was forming. “And I know we never really talked about it with you. But, when we go to get the discs back, I want you to know I don’t expect you to come with us. It’s not your fight, and it shouldn’t have to be. You don’t want to fight _at all_ and- and I really respect that Ranboo.”

“You don’t have to fight either.” 

“I kind of do! Tommy’s right, before everything else it was just me and him. It started as us against the world and, it’s gonna end that way. If all goes well though, we’ll need a place to come back to when it’s all over.” 

“Mm, I guess you’ll always be welcome back around these parts.” He tips his chin up towards the sky, the gold sheen melting away as the sun climbs higher, fading into soft blue. He rubs his fingertips together. There’s a lightness welling up in his chest, at the knowledge that Tubbo never expected anything from him that he wasn’t willing to give. 

“Aw, how generous of you, Ranboo!”

“I try my best!” The smile comes easily, followed by a gentle huff of laughter. 

\---

  
  


“Tommy, I just realized something.”

“That you’re an idiot?”

“No! Shut up. Neither of us have our compasses anymore.”

“Wait- _Wha?_ Wait wait, no. Really?” Tommy abandons his current project to vigorously pat down his own pockets, turning them inside out, even checking the bag at his side. “I thought- Where’d it go?”

“You lost it, in the big explosion, and then _I_ picked it up and immediately lost it too. So it’s lost… forever.” Tubbo spreads his hands at the last word, wiggling his fingers for effect. Tommy looks unimpressed.

“Did you really just come here to tell me one of my most prized possessions is forever gone? That’s cold, Tubbo, that’s real cold! Thank you for breaking the news!”

“Well, yeah. That’s why I said I _just_ realized. I thought you should know, if you didn’t already.”

“Truly saint-like behavior.”

“Oh! Just realized, both of our compasses were lost in explosions!”

“Ah yes, the parallels or what the fuck ever. I can’t believe they’re gone! Wait, you lost yours in an explosion? I thought you tossed it.”

“What? No! I’d never, Tommy. It was exploded by a creeper. I was so upset about it for days!”

Tommy hums, his hand absently reaching to the collar of his shirt before he seems to realize nothing’s there. “Dream said… well he said a lot of things. But he told me you chucked it into lava.” 

“I wouldn’t. Tommy, I _wouldn’t._ It was.. it was the only thing I had of you, after everything started going to shit.”

“I know, I know, christ. I can’t believe I lost it.” He mumbles the last bit to himself, idly stuffing a few bits of cobblestone into his bag. 

“Look on the bright side, we don’t need them anymore.” Tubbo hates the weird melancholy shift this conversation has taken. Which, he probably should have seen coming since the compasses were pretty important to the both but- all that stuff about hindsight and whatnot. Tommy makes a questioning noise. “Since, you know, we’re together now! We don’t need compasses to tell us exactly where the other is. We’re _together._ ” 

Something about those words seem to unwind the tense line of Tommy’s shoulders. “Yeah, yeah you got a point. Still feels weird though, you know? Was the only thing I really, _had,_ that was mine, that I was allowed to _keep_ \- and- it’s just gone.” 

The way Tommy’s voice goes wobbly at the edges when he says _allowed_ makes something cold settle in Tubbo’s stomach. Something like a sense of unease, at the word choice. He’s once again reminded of the way Tommy screamed at everyone, saying no one _understood_ what happened while he was exiled. 

“Yeah… do you need help, with, whatever you’re doing?”

The subject change is for the best, right now. Tommy perks up at the offer, his smile breaking wide and unrestrained. Tubbo knows they should talk about it, but. Not right now. 

“Finally! You want in on me project, eh?”

“Might as well-”

“Aye, Ranbo?! Where’d you put the rest of my cobble?!” Tommy shouts up the ladder, and Ranboo’s calm even tone floats back down. 

“I threw it out.”

“Don’t joke about a man’s cobble! Actually, one moment, Tubbo. I gotta make sure _someone_ stops making terrible jokes at the expense of others!” 

“Oh no, he’s become self aware.”

“Oh, _You-”_ Tommy promptly heaves him up the ladder with all of his might.

\---

Tommy can’t seem to remember what he’s searching for, as he opens and closes chests almost on autopilot. His eyes skip over their items, not taking any of it in, before the lid closes. It opens again, the same items in their same places, and Tommy still can’t remember. 

He’s ranting about something, some conversation he and Ranboo have been caught up in, his mouth working on its own as he gets lost in his own thoughts. Thunder booms outside, his shoulder tense, strung tight at the sound. 

The whole day had been shit, if Tommy’s being honest. He can’t even pinpoint the exact reasons, he just woke up feeling horrible. Like he was wading through a foggy evening just to collect his thoughts. So he’s been talking, all day, gathering up the thoughts he can and tossing them out into the open, hoping it will help. 

It doesn’t.

There’s an edge to it all, every word out of his mouth tasting frantic, joining the buzzing that sits behind his teeth. There’s a stack of lapis resting against his arm, so _blue_ , a cool presence on his skin. It suddenly gets harder and harder to breathe the more he talks. The more he bites out words he doesn’t even fully comprehend. 

Distantly, he can hear Ranboo asking him something, worry edging the words, but it doesn’t feel… solid, and, and he's not sure how he ended up kneeling on the floor, or when he started crying, but Ranboo is looking at him like he's not sure how to handle it, a hand reaching forward but not connecting, and something about it just makes Tommy cry harder. 

He hates crying in front of people. He _hates_ it, but it feels like he can't stop. It feels like it’s something out of his control, something bigger than him, rushing past any attempt to just, _not._

The thing is, every survivor has that moment, no matter how well you've been doing, or how strong you've been feeling. There’s always a moment where it feels like it's all crashing down around you. And you can’t stop it. 

Everything is too much and not enough. There’s too much happening, too much betrayal and destruction but there's nothing happening. Not enough is happening. He’s lonely and bored and and empty, and it hurts, it hurts so much and he doesn't know what to do, he never knows what to _do_ anymore, and and-

"Tommy, are you-“

"I want Wilbur."

"What.” 

"Wilbur-“ he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. _"I want wilbur, I want wilbur, I just want wilbur back-"_

It opens like a floodgate inside of him, crashing through him. His shoulders hunch and his body shakes, tipping him forward until he can feel the cool stone of the floor against his face. He wonders if it’s possible to cry so hard it hurts to breathe, or if there’s another reason for the hitch of his lungs, the stinging in his chest. He can’t _breathe._

Someone says something, and a door opens, or maybe closes. Sounds feel wobbly, his head is pounding, and he doesn’t know _what to do._ There’s a cool weight pressing itself into Tommy’s back suddenly, and his crying falters, just for a second. There’s a hum near his ear, pressed into his hair, and Ghostbur wraps his arms around as much of Tommy as he can. 

He’s practically laying on top of Tommy, but there’s something comforting about it. 

"Just breathe Tommy, please just breathe."

_"I want- I want wilbur back, I want wilbur, I-"_

Ghostbur starts humming, a familiar tune, something from his childhood. It makes Tommy suck in a breath, stinging and stuttering. "Don’t cry, it’s ok. Hey, guess what?” Tommy makes a little noise in reply. “You're one of my best memories, Tommy. I think Alivebur forgot that, near the end. But I don't- I only remember the good memories, _and you're the best one."_

It’s raining. It’s been raining all day. It patters against the windows, gathers in the flower boxes, and Ranboo watches from the front porch as Tommy lays in the grass and becomes soaking wet. Arms open wide, chin tipped towards the sky, eyes closed. 

He’s been like that ever since he picked himself up off the floor of their basement. Sucking in lungfuls of air one right after the other, hauling himself up and outside. 

“What do you think he’s doing?” He asks, feeling someone sidle up next to him. Glancing over, his eyes automatically course correct, sliding down, seeing Tubbo. 

Tubbo shrugs, squints up at the darkening sky. “I dunno, he does this sometimes. Spends time alone when he’s feeling too much. It looks fun, though.” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, right. You and the rain don’t really get on, do you?” 

“You could say that.” 

Tubbo cracks a smile, glances up at the sky again. “I’ll manage to get him inside, even if I have to twist his arm and drag him back.” 

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, I’m stronger than I look.” With a light laugh, Tubbo skips down the steps and joins Tommy in the grass, and Ranboo watches from the safety of the front door. He nudges Tommy with his foot, before falling to the ground beside him, laying with their shoulders pressed together. There’s a crack of lighting in the distance, one… two… three… and _there’s_ the thunder. Ranboo bundles his jacket closer around him. 

Ranboo watches a little longer, wanting to make sure that Tommy really is ok. He said he was ok, but that doesn’t mean much when it comes to Tommy. Tubbo has rolled over, pressing the side of his forehead into Tommy’s shoulder, both of their eyes squeezed shut. He’s going to go out there, he’s going to go and make sure they’re both ok. He can handle some rain, it’s just _rain,_ it’s not going to hurt, he can handle it for them. 

He takes one step forward, when Tubbo cracks a smile. That’s good. That means they’re ok. Or well, not as bad as he thought. That’s good. He retreats back under the awning. They’re going to come back inside soon, and he’ll make sure they’re ok. Where it’s warm and _dry._

There’s a cool presence that manifests behind him, he can feel it in the same way one can feel how cold ice is without having to touch it. Ghostbur hums, a lyrical lilt to every little noise he makes. “Do you want to come help me make some tea? I uh… well, funny story. I dropped the kettle in the basin, and I can’t fish it out.” He spreads his hands wide when Ranboo turns around, a bashful smile across his face. “I know you don’t like water all that much either, but well. I’ll _melt!”_

One last look outside, and he can see Tommy with an arm over his eyes, Tubbo sitting up and lightly swatting at his arm for something. Things seem better. They seem better. That’s good. They’ll be inside soon, he trusts that. He trusts Tubbo. They won’t leave him behind. “Yeah, I’ll help, Ghostbur. I’ll help.” 

“Splendid!” 

“Quit hittin’ me, I’m quite emotional right now! You’re abusing someone at their lowest point, Tubbo. I can’t believe you- I really can’t believe you.”

“We both know this is not your lowest point.” 

“...well alright, you got me there. It could be! I’m crying in the rain, Tubbo!” 

“I’m sorry.” The shift in his tone is like a slap to the face. “I’m sorry, Tommy. I’m sorry I didn’t know about… about any of that.”

“It’s ok…”

“It’s not!” He’s slapping at him again, pushing at his shoulders and shaking him. “It’s not ok, and you need to stop saying it is. You were- Tommy you were more than just manipulated. _I_ was manipulated. Dream made me think we were friends but it never went beyond that. He… he tried to _break_ you.”

“Yeah well, he couldn’t.” Tommy’s words are flinty as they strike from his mouth. A sharp edge to them, causing sparks even in the rain. 

Tubbo is quiet for a moment, moving his hands to fiddle with the hem of Tommy’s sleeve. “Is that why you didn’t give Techno’s axe back?”

“Hm?”

"When Technoblade asked for his axe back, you refused. You said that big line about being worthy. But… but it was more than that.”

“I was sick and fucking tired of throwing away my weapons because someone told me to.”

“Yeah… you did kinda steal his axe though. Like, it was symbolic sure, but you just kinda _stole_ it.”

That makes Tommy laugh, it’s a bit watery and wavers at the edges, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. Tommy wipes at his face, scrubbing tears and rain out of his eyes. “Yeah, yeah I did do that. It was just theft, wasn’t it? Just plain petty theft.” Another laugh, more powerful than the first. 

They both fall silent, as the rain continues to fall. Tommy sighs, runs his hands over his face, and sits up. They sit there, knees bumping together, and stare up into the grey sky. It’s meant to be afternoon, but the sun is hidden away behind the clouds, not daring to show its face in this storm. 

“We’re going to get the discs back.”

“And if you can’t?”

“I will. Because… because with those discs, Dream has all the power. I’m taking it back.”

Tubbo uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the rain from his face, but he realizes it’s futile, since his sleeves are soaked through. He sighs. “What if you just, I dunno, decided the discs weren’t important anymore?” 

Tommy’s brows pinch together. “As long as Dream has them, he thinks he’s won. Telling him they don’t matter won’t work, he wouldn’t believe me anyways. I’m getting the fuckin’ discs back and I’m going to ruin all of his plans. Please, Tubbo, please. We can do this.” 

“You don’t have to say please, idiot. I’m with you. I mean, I don’t particularly enjoy the idea of us losing our lives for this, but. I’d rather be there and have your back then let you do this alone. ‘Cause I know you, and even if I say no, you’re still gonna run off.”

“True, very true.” 

“C’mon, I promised Ranboo we’d get out of the rain.” 

“What’s he have against the rain?”

“He’s kind of allergic to it.”

“Really? That’s fuckin’ weird.”

“Don’t be rude.” He grabs at Tommy’s arm, pulling him up and along. Tommy resists for a second, but eventually falls into step, letting Tuboo tug him back to their house. 

“I’m not rude! I’m a fucking delight, I’ll have you know.”

“You _are_ a delight! But you’re also incredibly rude.”

He makes one of his disgruntled noises, pushing Tubbo over as they reach the stairs, Tommy bounding past and taking them two at a time. Damn him and his long legs. Tubbo tries to grab at his pant leg as he passes by, but Tommy sidesteps so easily, laughs loudly at the look on Tubbo’s face. 

“C’mon, get up out of the rain, Tubbo.”

“Sleep with one eye open, bucko.”

“Now you’re threatening me! Ranbo! He’s threatening me!” 

“And what do you want me to do about it?” Ranboo calls from inside as Tommy wrenches the front door open. 

“I dunno! Something! Tell him off!”

“No. Do you want tea?”

“And I’m called the rude one! Ooh, yes please.” 

Tubbo closes the door behind them, only slightly pleased he arrived after Tommy, knowing for a fact that door would have never been shut if Tommy was in charge of it. “Don’t give him any tea, he doesn’t deserve it.”

“I just had a very emotional moment! I deserve comfort tea!”

“Comfort tea! Coming right up!” Ghostbur already has mismatched mugs set up on the kitchen table, a grin stretching wide. So Tubbo relents, and swears to pay Tommy back some other way. Maybe ice under his bed so he slips when he wakes up. Now _that’s_ a good idea. 

\---

Lava pops and crackles, a ghast keens somewhere in the distance, and Tommy breathes in the hot oppressing air of the nether. 

It’s the dry sort of heat, stealing away every ounce of moisture, and Tommy fucking hates it. He stands, staring into the glowing ocean below him, and tries not to think of the weeks prior to this moment. He’s in a better place now, he’s doing great, so why does _lava_ still take his breath away. It has to be the air quality, it’s _too_ hot, _too_ dry.

Maybe if he tries, he can find his stupid screaming log. Maybe he could dismantle it, take the wood back home. Maybe he can even take apart the portal to Logstedshire- what’s _left_ of Logstedshire. They could use the obsidian. He can take it all back and stop thinking about it so much.

He’s still not sure how he feels about it all, and that’s the part that sucks the most. Sure he’s talked about some of the things that happened with Tubbo, just so he’d understand a bit more but- not all of it. How could he when he could barely think up the words to explain it to himself? It just, happened. It happened and there’s no way to describe it. 

It happened and the memories feel like the heat of the nether pressing at him. It’s not actively harmful, not really… but god is it fucking uncomfortable. It’s the sort of feeling that stings at your chest and claws under your skin the very first moment you ever step foot through that portal but then. Then you start to get used to it, don’t you. Then traveling through the nether becomes the norm, and you learn to ignore the uncomfort weighing at your lungs and settling on your skin. 

Even that feels too big. Too specific. Even that is just a fleeting thought that tumbles through his brain and picks up some semblance of coherency before he’s batting it away. 

The ground rumbles with a muffled explosion, one right after the other. It shakes something loose in Tommy, and he steps away from the edge. He’s not going to think about it anymore, because he’s better. He’s over it. He had his little cry and he’s _good_ now. 

So why does his brain still itch whenever he tries to think about his exile too hard. 

“Tommy!” Ghostbur’s voice carries through the boiling air, and he skips over broken pathways to reach where Tommy stands. “Hello, Tommy.” 

“What’s up, bitch. I’m doing important big man planning stuff.” He’s not. But he likes to pretend he is. He takes another step away from the edge, backs away until he can’t see the churning lava anymore.

“Oh, really? Planning what?” Ghostbur hovers closer, peering into Tommy’s face in that oddly genuine way of his.

Tommy shrugs. “Disc stuff. Getting back at Dream stuff. You know, the _ushe._ The _norm._ ”

“Right… well, I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.” 

“You’re always bloody talking to me about something.”

“No, Tommy,” He pokes at Tommy’s shoulder, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. “I meant something specific. I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“About what?” There’s another set of explosions, farther away this time. It mingles with the low ambience of the nether. The constant little noises that blend together. He should build a cobble path, so they don’t get lost to and from their portal, the thought just sort of pops into his head. But, that’d defeat the point of them _being off the grid,_ as Tubbo called it. A little tiny path wouldn’t hurt… 

Ghostbur tugs at Tommy’s sleeve, a quiet little gesture as he hovers even closer. 

“One minute, I’m tryin’ to think and _strat-te-gize_.” 

“I think it’s just _strategize,_ you put an extra T in there…” 

“What-tever” 

That gets a little giggle in reply, but it’s gone just as quickly. “I’ve decided something.” Ghostbur tugs at the collar of his sweater, fiddles with Tommy’s sleeve, twists his mouth around. 

“Christ, just spit it out already-“ 

“I want you to bring me back to life, Tommy.” 

Oh. Well. That feels like a punch to the chest. “What the fuck?” Ghostbur just looks at him, his big eyes shining in the warm light, his fingers still curled into Tommy’s shirt. The confusing flippy floppy thoughts rush back to him. “I- do you really think that’s a good idea? I mean- right now? We sort of have more important things-”

“I think it’s important…” He tightens his hold, tugs again at Tommy’s sleeve. “I’ve been thinking about it, _quite a lot_ really, and. Don’t you miss Alivebur?”

“I-...” Well, _fuck._ Holy _shit,_ this is too _much._ Tommy steps away, pulling out of Ghostbur’s grasp. “It doesn’t matter if I miss- what the hell kind of question is that? What would bringing him back even do, huh? How’d that help _anything?”_

“What if he can make things better?”

“What if he makes things _worse?”_ His brain buzzes and he hates it. “He left- he _left_ and- Ghostbur I have to get my discs back, I can’t worry about fucking Wilbur-” 

“He made things better too. I remember…”

“Good for you.” 

“Tommy…” He reaches out again, a hand falling on Tommy’s shoulder. Steady, anchoring. “I want to come back to life. I’m sorry- you know, I’m sorry I worried you with this! I want to be alive again and that’s not your problem! You already have so much to worry about- Hey, I’m gonna figure this out, ok? I always figure it out.” 

In that moment, a blink and you’ll miss it sort of moment, he sounds so much like _Wilbur_ that it aches. He can’t tell if it’s in a good or a bad sort of way. It just, does. 

“I don't want you to go.” 

“I know!” Ghostbur lays a hand on Tommy’s cheek, his palm cool to the touch. “I don’t want to go either, if I’m being very very honest with you.” He pitches his voice to a whisper. “I’m actually kind of scared, Tommy. But I think this might be a good thing. No one needs me-”

“I need you.”

“But I think more people can benefit if Alivebur is around. I think… I think he’ll try his _best,_ and that’s what matters. Yeah?” 

“Yeah… I mean- yeah. Yeah, fine.” He feels like he should be arguing his point. Try and make Ghostbur understand- but he can’t when he doesn’t fully understand himself, can he. It’s a weird blending in his brain that confuses him, emotions that don’t make a whole lot of sense right now. He can’t tell if he hopes Ghostbur is successful or not. 

“Wonderful! Chin up, Tommy. You’re so much stronger than you think.” 

A few minutes later, Ranboo crawls his way up from the entrance to his makeshift mine. Tommy is still standing there, now alone, his eyes drawn back to the bubbling heat below. 

“I’m heading back to the overworld, I ended up running out of beds- Tommy?”

“Yeah?” He feels weirdly detached, and it’s not a great feeling. Like he’s missed out on some important part of his story but he can’t figure out what it was.

Ranboo moves closer, his neutral expression pinching into something else. Tommy can’t really tell, the whole split coloring of his face still sort of trips Tommy up. “Hey, are you ok?”

“Course I am.” Tommy shakes himself, absently checks his pockets to give himself something to do. “I’m- when am I never not great? When am I never not _perfect,_ Ranbo?”

“I don’t want to answer that, since I don’t think you’ll particularly like it.” 

“What-tever.” 

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing. You wouldn't get it.” 

“Ok. Let’s go home.”

They head back, and Ranboo let’s Tommy ramble, asking about the netherite mining and what sort of names he should name his pets. Ranboo politely declines every one of Tommy’s suggestions. Apparently _Wife Haver_ isn’t a great name for a dog. His loss. Tommy tries to ask him about the worst word he knows, yet again, and Ranboo sighs and changes the topic entirely. Damn, he’s starting to _learn_ and _adapt._

“Oh, Tommy.” Ranboo stops him, the portal just a few feet away. “You have some uh… some blue. On your cheek.” 

There’s a cold tingle that breaks out over Tommy’s skin as the words process, and he scrubs at his face, swiping at his cheek and his jaw. His fingers come back stained just a little bit blue and something sinks in Tommy’s stomach. It feels too much like a goodbye and it _sucks._

“I fucking _hate_ the nether.”

**Author's Note:**

> :3c 
> 
> sometimes things are just left open ended and that's the way of the world.


End file.
